Undead
by Gouki3
Summary: Buffy has been dead for one month, and all the gang are coping in different ways... but what's turning them against each other? Is it really Buffy?
1. Shooting Star

Shooting Star.  
  
Every night, he saved her. He'd move faster, fight harder, kill quicker... do something-anything-to stop Glory from getting Dawn, to stop Buffy from jumping from the platform.  
  
"Spike, you saved me." Buffy told him, a loving smile crossing her face. "You saved Dawn."  
  
He'd shrug it off with a 'no worries' or a 'I owed you', or something, at first. But then it started to get deeper. He'd save Buffy in different ways. Kill Ben, kill Doc, hold off Glory, and it would always end the same; "I love you Spike."  
  
This night was no different. He snapped Doc's neck, and tossed is body down before he could cut Dawn. This time he knew where the knife was. Buffy was about to be finished by Glory. He stabbed her with a girder. She morphed back into Ben. The chip kicked in. The pain. It was worth it. Buffy kissed him, held him close, she opened her mouth...  
  
"No!" He howled shooting upright. "No." He moved himself to the edge of his bed. Buffy was dead. No matter what he dreamed, nothing could change that; she was lost to him. Lost to his heart... He'd been willing to... It didn't matter. The thought made him laugh. Which quickly turned into sobs.  
  
Xander walked through the door of Spike's crypt. Wordlessly eyeing the crying vampire. "Patrolling tonight. You coming?" He asked grudgingly.  
  
Spike wiped the tear's away. "Sure. Why not. Anything's better than sitting here waiting for the next Big Bad to come for Dawn again. Maybe Willow could die this time."  
  
Xander drew back his arm and punched Spike in the face, although not the strongest of the Scoobie's, he had fierce strength when it involved the honor of his friends. Spike fell to the ground.  
  
"Sod off, monkey boy." Spike roared at him. "Little bit's the Key. Accept it, she's got to be useful to other God's out there."  
  
Xander reached down and grabbed him by the shirt. "Keep it up Spike, and you'll get a splinter... in the chest."  
  
"I kind of figured you were going in tha direction. Let's get this bleedin' patrol over with. Wanker." He muttered, getting to his feet and pushing past Xander. It was enough to cause a small jolt from the chip. But nothing major.  
  
~*~  
  
Patrol was uneventful. Nothing was eventful for Spike anymore-it was all so tepid and boring after fighting a God. After losing the woman he loved. He swallowed hard, and walked back to his crypt slowly. One more vampire charged at him, on his way, he spun around, kicking it in the head, before drawing a stake and plunging it into the heart. Dust filled the air.  
  
The crypt door was open. Someone could be in there. That would have excited Spike, only week's ago. Now, he didn't care. He walked through the door, stake ready, and noticed a woman sitting on his chair. Her back to him.  
  
"Hey!" He called at her. "What do you think you're doing? You don't just enter someone's crypt without asking. Don't you have any-"  
  
She turned to face him. "I thought we could watch Passion's together."  
  
"Buffy..." He started. "You're dead." He bluntly snapped.  
  
A mischievous smile grew on her face. "Now, now. That's no way for you to talk to the love of your life." She jumped off the chair, and pulled Spike close.  
  
"You're the bot." He muttered deflated-ly. "I could kill Willow."  
  
"I'm not the bot. I'm Buffy. Perky, sexy, Buffy." She kissed him softly on the cheek, rubbing her hand through his hair. "You don't seem happy to see me. Don't I please you anymore?"  
  
Spike took a deep breath. "It's not that. It's you're dead."  
  
"Yes. I am. But you saved me every night." How did she know?  
  
He froze, she knew she was dead. She wasn't a ghost-she had touched him- maybe she was a manifest spirit? No. To clean, to kind for that. Psychological torture isn't their style. She wasn't a zombie, not decomposed enough. She had to be the bot... Didn't she? Unless...  
  
"The portal!" He blurted out. "When you jumped through the portal, something happened. Maybe you were given a new body, maybe a new life. A second chance?"  
  
"Third chance," she corrected him smiling. "I've died once before already." She paused carefully gauging his reaction. "It's been a month Spike. You have to move on."  
  
He shook his head, his insides suddenly freezing. "What?" He growled.  
  
"You have to move on. I'll be inside your heart forever, but that's all. I'm dead. I can't change that." She kissed him again, this time on the lips, passionately, softly. Spike pulled her off.  
  
"No." He murmured.  
  
"Yes, Spike!" She cried at him. "I did what I had to. Now you have to do what you have to do; hold the fort, Spike. Heaven or Hell, it doesn't matter. Hold the fort."  
  
"What?" He asked.  
  
'Hold the fort?' what did that mean? Was she coming back? Was a new Slayer on the way? Was the portal sending her from another world? To many questions. Not enough answers-none in fact-Buffy was leaving. He ran to stop her, he grabbed her arm.  
  
Her eyes filled with rage. She slapped him harshly on the face. He pulled back his arm and let go. She said nothing, but the hurt-some kind of hurt- was there. She didn't move from where she had been grabbed.  
  
"Don't. Touch. Me." She snarled.  
  
"But... I..." He tried to process what had just happened. "Buffy, what's happening? What's wrong?"  
  
He moved closer to Buffy, and she took a step back. Then he noticed the stake in her hand. When did that get there? Spike thought to himself. He pressed on, moving closer to Buffy, and she took a step back each time.  
  
"Hold the fort, Spike." She repeated, thrusting her arm outwards digging the stake into his chest.  
  
"Buffy!" He cried.  
  
His body slowly crumbled to dust his un-life disappearing. Everything turning black. Buffy smiling, sadly, tears running down her cheek. He tried to reach out to her, then it happened; it all ended. The dust filled the air, Spike-William-was no more.  
  
~*~  
  
He awoke, angrily, scared and disturbed by what he had just seen. How could it have been a dream? It was so real. The pain he felt, and Buffy, she had never been so warm to him before not since they were going to get married because of Willow's spell.  
  
Even when she was pretending to be the Buffy-bot, she hadn't kissed him so warmly. His life, was perfect for that moment, everything disappeared and became one. Life was... 'Hold the fort'. Her cryptic message forced itself into his head. A cryptic message. From a dream. Where the woman he had loved had killed him. And yet, it was the best thing that had ever happened to him. She had opened his eyes.  
  
I've saved you every night Buffy, how did you save me?" He wondered out lout. He got up and walked outside, throwing a shirt on. Patrol would be fun tonight-his bloodlust was back. He looked up at the stars. One shot by in the sky, he silently wished for Buffy. That she just be happy. While he held the fort... 


	2. Heartbreak

Heartbreak  
  
Rupert Giles sat at his desk, absently reading a demonology book on Inter Dimensional portals. In all his years as a Watcher—as a man—he had lost so many women that had found themselves in his heart. Jenny Calendar, the local techno-pagan, a gypsy whose task was to keep an eye on Angel something which cost her dearly.  
  
The beautiful opera music played loudly in the background. Rose petal's lined the path to Rupert's bedroom. He held the sketch and the champagne closely, as he ventured towards his love. Blindly. He found her, laying on the bed, dead eyes staring up at him. He knew instantly: Angelus. He dropped the champagne, the music in the background growing louder. His heart splitting, his mind closing up, he could do nothing. Reconciliation—love—was lost.  
  
The memory was still too painful, despite three years having passed. The first person he had buried that he had truly loved. He slammed the book shut.  
  
"Why did you bloody well have to die?" He boomed at no one. He needed that, to let of his anger. He pulled off his glasses, and cleaned them. He laughed to himself when he did it. A bitter, sad laugh. Buffy had always made it a priority to point this out, and make fun of it.  
  
He couldn't just sit there reading anymore. Back when he was still a librarian, he would have forced himself to keep on going. Back before Buffy died. He fetched himself a cup of tea, and turned on the TV. Nothing much except for news or pure crap at this time of the night.  
  
Slowly, he drifted off to sleep. The siren call of sleep had won the battle against him—as much as he fought her. He awoke later, sun streaming through his window on him. He glanced at his watch. The Magic Box would be opened by now... He hoped Anya had taken care of it.  
  
His mind drifted, he wanted to go back home, and the thought pained him. Dawn needed a family; Willow needed someone to keep her powers in check. Tara wouldn't do it. She's to passive. Spike... Spike just needed to stay away. But the pull of England was too strong. The pull of Olivia, his second—third? Second-and-a-half? Where did she fit in with Joyce? Where did Joyce fit in? —Love... would she still accept him? She hadn't when the Gentlemen arrived.  
  
Olivia stood in the doorway, her bags by her side. A sly smile on her face. "Hello Rupert." She said warmly as he took her in his arms. Small talk was boring, pointless. It didn't matter much, that night, after a time of passion; the Gentlemen stole their voices. Everyone's voices. She drank hard to quell the fear, to stop it. Her passion with Gile's still existed, but it was lessened with every truth she learned of the supernatural. With every moment of silence that passed. She kissed him deeply. But couldn't handle it—it was to frightening. She left and he hadn't seen her since.  
  
This was too much. Never before had he thought about this so much, yet now he couldn't stop. Maybe it wouldn't be such a good idea to go to the Magic Box. Take his mind off it all. He grabbed a jacket, and slowly put it over the top of his shirt. No point in having a shower, he thought. He ended up back here every night.  
  
A stake dropped from the chair the jacket had been resting on. Giles would have taken no notice of it any other time. Stakes were found all around the house. And crosses, holy water, everything like that. But this stake was different. Seeing it hit the ground felt like it had just been driven through his own heart: Mr. Pointy. The stake given to Buffy by Kendra before Drusilla slit her throat. Why was it here? He could swear he gave it to Dawn. She'd need to be trained soon. Maybe being the Key would give her better strength better reflexes, more than human.  
  
Quickly he got rid of the image and left. The Magic Box was bustling with activity, after the battle with Glory and the destruction of around a fifth of the town; people had become very active in protection from the supernatural. Other's either left the town, or just blocked everything out. Just like Joyce had done before Buffy told her everything.  
  
He remembered their first meeting. In the hospital when Darla had attacked her and framed Angel. They got along well, but nothing serious happened until Buffy disappeared. His mind flashed back to those harsh words she had uttered: "I don't. I blame you." Funny how things change. Only month's later they had sex. Twice. On the top of a police car. It ended there; they had no control over it. Giles couldn't help but wonder if things would have been different had she and him not been teenagers when it had happened. And then it happened: Buffy found her dead on the couch. And Giles tried to revive her, but it was no use. The funeral came and went, and he mourned for her the only way he knew how. He listened to Tales of the Brave Ulysses by Cream. The song they had first acted on their spark with... But she was lost to him.  
  
And now she was dead. The three women he had loved had come to Sunnydale, and they'd either died or fled, fearful of the life he lived. He stopped the car, and turned around harshly, this was something he had to do. Buffy would understand. He knew it.  
  
"Would she, Rupert?" Joyce asked from next to him. She placed her hand on his. It was warm.  
  
"Of course. She's dead, Joyce." Gile's bluntly told the woman. "She'd understand that this was my choice to make. I can't just stay here hoping she'll come back. I was going to leave last year, you know."  
  
The conversation was almost casual. "But, Rupert, what about Dawn?"  
  
The question stuck a cord. "What about... my sister?" Now it was Buffy.  
  
"I don't have time for this, Buffy." Giles snapped. "Dawn can be taught by Spike and Willow. God knows they can teach her more than what she needs to know."  
  
"That's really selfish Giles."  
  
"So was swan diving off the platform, and leaving us all here alone."  
  
"Death was my gift. I thought you would have understood that better than anyone." She soothed.  
  
He pulled up out the front of his house. "I'm sorry that I couldn't do anything."  
  
"Don't be. It was my choice to make. My gift to unwrap." She got out of the car and walked down the street, not saying another word to Giles.  
  
He sighed; maybe this wasn't the right choice to make. Dawn walked by—with a boy—he noted.  
  
"Hey Giles. This is Kane." She introduced him, surprisingly cheerful. "We were in the same maths class last year."  
  
"Hello Giles." He politely shook his hand. "I'm terribly sorry for the loss of your daughter."  
  
Daughter? The thought alone was enough to take Giles breath away. He staggered back, trying to regain his breath. "No... She... Uh... She... wasn't my... daughter." He muttered, sadness filling his heart. Why would Dawn say that? Maybe I was her father. She always thought of me that way... "I'm sorry, Dawn. I have to go."  
  
He quickly left. "Nice guy," Kane muttered. "It's a shame though. His heart... It'll never heal. It's been through too much. He's going to be pulled down by the undertow. It's his choice to make."  
  
"What?" Dawn asked, she was worried about Giles. She didn't want him to disappear; she'd already lost Buffy and Joyce. She couldn't lose her... father, as well.  
  
Once inside Giles leaned against the door, fighting the tears. He had to do this first. Then the tears could come. Olivia handed him the phone; "here you go Rupert. I'll look forward to it."  
  
"Thank you, Olivia." He dialed the phone number. How did he know it? It didn't matter. He watched Olivia walk up the stairs as he waited for the phone to connect. "Uh, Hello... This is Rupert Giles... I'd like to book a flight to England... About two months... Towards the end of August... Yes that will do nicely... I'll pay for it when I pick it up... That's okay? Thank you... Goodbye." He hung up the phone.  
  
"I tried hard, you know that. Don't you, Rupert?" Jenny asked as she pulled off his jacket, and undid his shirt. "I wanted you so much. Your love, your approval. And then Angelus stole it from us. He can't do it this time." She kissed him on the chest, before moving up his neck, and finally kissing his lips passionately. "Passion, Rupert, without we would be truly dead."  
  
"I know. Will you wait for me?" He asked.  
  
"Always." She said as she pushed away from him. "But I won't be waiting here. You know that. You've got nothing here. The Scoobie's don't want a teacher. They want a Slayer. They don't want you they want her. But I want you. And I'll wait." She opened the door and faced Giles, smiling.  
  
Suddenly, invisible hands grabbed her neck and twisted it with a sickening crack, as her lifeless body fell to the ground. Giles stared at it, before moving on. "You're right." He walked upstairs. Two more months, then he would leave. He would mourn, give them time to mourn. Give them time to accept it. Give him time to accept it. And they all would.  
  
"Escape is not real, just an illusion." The body of Jenny told him as he retreated to his room. 


End file.
